


To Hold You Down

by Daiako (Achrya)



Series: 14 Days of Lust [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Breeding, Cock Warming, Consensual Non-Consent, Dubious Consent, Hand Feeding, Humiliation, Intersex Omegas, Knotting, M/M, Master/Slave, Mindbreak, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Shame, Teasing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Daiako
Summary: Some fantasies are darker than others. When Prompto has a chance to make anything he wants come to life what he asks for, and gets, is just that.Or: Imperial Prince Prompto is captured by the Lucian King and his two generals. Unfortunately for him they know just what to do with pretty little princes abandoned far from home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My 14 Days of Lust are a series of kind of interconnected stories that take place in a big magical brothel, where all fantasies are possible. This is Prompto's. It's. Things. 
> 
> Honestly there was much Prompto/Others+ Abduction and gangbang requested for the 14 days of Lust and I love it. I know what I’m about and, it seems, so do all of you (the only thing I love more is abducted, fucked out Noctis.)

 Prompto looked around the lobby of the Paradise Inn, trying to pretend he wasn’t on the verge of totally freaking out. Shiro, the same man who’d been working the desk when he’d come with the others, was looking over his menu and if the way his eyebrow was climbing higher and higher with each passing moments he had some...thoughts. About what Prompto was requesting. Perfectly valid thoughts, no doubt.

Prompto was half ashamed of himself, honestly.

“Okay. We can do this.” Shiro said finally, lowering the table. Prompto blinked, momentarily speechless then leaned forward in his seat, eyes widening.

“Seriously? I mean it’s not too...weird?”

Shiro shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder. But I have one suggestion, if you’re willing to hear it?” Prompto nodded and made a ‘go ahead’ motion with his hands. The guy did work here so he was the expert, at least compared to Prompto. “We can alter your memory to make it a more...realistic experience. Not everyone is okay with that, in situations like what you’re asking for, but should anything appear to be out of control the fantasy will be stopped and your memory returned to you.”

Prompto stared blankly, understanding the words but not quite able to make them come together in his head for one entirely too long beat. And then he reared back, heart fluttering in something that was equal parts fear and thrill.

“You can make it so I don’t know what’s going on?” On the one hand that was...a lot. Probably a bad idea, right? It was toeing the edge of making the very bad things he was interested in very real. But, on the other hand…“Do other people do that?”

“Some of them. I have.” Shiro said, smiling gently. “It isn’t a total wipe, so there’s still part of you that’s aware it’s just a fantasy, and that you’re in control. And your partners will follow your cues, even if you don’t realize they are. It does make things...more intense.”

Prompto looked up at him through his lashes, weighing his words before nodding slowly. “O-okay. I’ll try it.”

\---

The battle was over. They had lost. The sand dunes were littered with the dead and dying from both sides of the battle and the air trembled with their cries or worse, the wailing of those who would survive the day. The sand that Prompto had thought so beautiful on the ride to the battlefield was dyed in golds and reds under the setting sun, soaking up the blood of his people.

He stumbled away from his downed horse, dented helmet falling to the ground with a soft thud. His hair was sticking to his face, tacky with blood, and it hurt to move. His body cried out with each unsteady step, aching something awful. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, just that at some point something had hit him in the head hard enough to make him see stars and, a moment later, his horse had reared up and then fallen, pinning him beneath it. After that the world had gone...dark.

The sun had been much higher in the sky then and the ranks of the Imperials much less...diminished. His father and brother had been among their numbers but now, as he pulled himself up onto the top of a dune, he saw none of them among the living. He wasn’t surprised to find they’d run when things had begun to look bleak, that very much his father’s way and so was also the way of his brothers. They hadn’t even wanted to come out here, over the mountain peaks to march upon the desert land of Lucis, but the Emperor, Prompto’s maternal grandfather, had insisted. He was to choose his heir soon and this, conquering their barbarian enemies, was to prove who among their line was worthy.

Prompto supposed this meant he had failed. Not that he’d had much chance, being the only omega among 8 children, but that hadn’t mattered to him. His people were being sent to battle so how could he, their prince, do any less? What kind of ruler would send him subjects to risk their lives while too afraid to ride beside, and die with, them? He’d been placed at the head of the lone omega unit, made up of exactly forty omegas who’d answered the call to battle, and he’d trained with them, eaten with them, been utterly dedicated to them in the months leading up the campaign.

He’d been proud of them, beyond proud, when they’d finally hit the edge of the desert after six weeks of harsh travel with his unit completely intact, where those under his brother’s lead had lost some of their number. He’d even allowed himself to imagine the full number returning home, heads held high, having proven to all the nation that omegas were just as capable as their beta and alpha counterparts in battle.

Now he looked over the rolling dunes, barely able to stand for how dizzy he was, and watched something like a scene from a tragic play, or the tales from the borderlands where the Lucian barbarians were always attacking. Bodies, glad in glittering armor and tattered white robes, being dragged to fire pits. The badly injured were falling silent under the blades of a few scattered, but grimly focused, Lucians and, amongst it all, the remnants of his unit (marked by the red omega symbols on their arms and the red edging to their robes, were being carried or dragged away, screaming and fighting futilely.

And, in some unlucky cases, stripped, held down, and mounted right there, among remains of the battle they’d fought. He saw them, omegas he knew by name, whose families he had met and made promises to (He saw his cousin, Prince Ravus to the east, snarling and trashing as a pair of Lucians physically carried him between them to who knew where. Loqi, to the south, impressive armor peeled away, in the grips of an older man) being cruelly used and felt sick and furious and, suddenly, too dizzy to stand.

He hit the ground hard, armor creaking. He blinked back tears and swallowed back a wave of nausea; he needed to get up, to do something! He couldn’t just watch this, couldn’t let this-

“Hey, Noct, I found another one!”

Prompto’s head snapped up and around, eyes going wide as he found himself staring up at one of the largest men he’d ever seen, dark eyed, long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail on the top and shaved at the sides, tall with bulging muscles. At his side was another man, a little shorter but still on the tall side, built lean instead of big, with sandy brown hair and green eyes. They were dressed near identically, all black leather jerkins over chain arms, and what looked liked quilted cotton shirts, leather breeches, and tall black boots. The bigger one had a cross handing round his neck, scars on his face, and a sword nearly as big as Prompto strapped to his back. The other had a skull pendant around his neck, a long saber sheathed on one side and a set of daggers sheathed on the other.

They both reeked of sweat, blood, and Alpha so thick that, even though they were out in the open and a few meters away, it nearly made him choke.

Prompto’s hand twitched for the knife he kept tucked away, his usual weapons lost (or, maybe, he’d been too dazed to even look for them after digging himself out from under his mount) but, lightening fast, the smaller man was behind him, an arm looped around his neck, pushing against his throat, and the tip of his dagger dangerous close to his eye.

“I would,” The words were lightly accented and full of danger as they were hissed in his ear. “Advise against any hostile movements.”

Prompto swallowed, throat bobbing, and nodded slightly, letting his hands fall slowly down to his side. Dying wouldn’t do him, or the other omegas, any good. Maybe...maybe he could negotiate. Strike a deal of some kind. He was a prince, omega or not, he had some sway. Hopefully.

“You were leading the omega unit, weren’t you?” The taller man asked as he crouched next to Prompto and managed to quickly slide his dagger away. “I didn’t know Niffs let omegas fight. But I guess it’s easier to throw you to the wolves if they take you along.”

“What-”

“Ah, I suppose you don’t know yet. Prince Verstael, when confronted with the end of the king’s sword, opted to beg for his life.” The green eyed alpha said, scorn dripping from every word. “And left behind the omega unit as payment for that life.”

Prompto’s stomach dropped and even as he let out a cry of denial and tried to wrench himself away from the alpha he knew, in his heart, that it was true. His father, no doubt, hadn’t even thought twice before offering up the lives of Prompto and his unit to secure his safety. He probably hadn’t even looked back or spared him a thought. He was forced back against the man’s chest and the arm on his throat pushed hard, choking him, and the dagger lowered dangerously close.

“I know this one.” A voice commented from behind Prompto, a trace of amusement coloring the words. “He’s one of the princes so don’t take out his eye Iggy. That isn’t how we treat visiting nobles.”  

The dagger withdrew and the arm against his throat let up some, though it remained. A second later a shadow fell over him; he cut his eyes up to meet the dark blue eyes of the Lucian King. He’d seen him earlier in the day, cutting a bloody path through the imperial ranks, moving with a fluid grace and speed that seemed otherworldly. He’d had two men at his side the entire time, a huge berserker and a light footed swordsmen, both wearing hoods that obscured their face. But now, seeing them with the king, he knew they had to be his two generals.

Warriors who managed to return from the warfront told horror stories about these three. Any thought he’d had of negotiation flew from his head and all words turned to ash on his tongue.

The king squatted in front of him, head cocked to the side. A gloved hand cupped Prompto’s face, tilted his head up. “You wouldn’t remember, you were a kid, but we’ve met before, before the treaty fell apart and your people decided to attack. You’ve grown.” He looked to the side, calling the large man forward without a word. “Gladio, what do you think of this one?”

Amber eyes roamed over Prompto, taking him in completely, before he smiled toothily and drug his tongue over sharp, curved alpha fangs. “He’s cute. I like cute.”

“Ignis?”

The man pressed tight to his back, just one movement away from cutting off his air, made a thoughtful noise. “A prince, you said? That guarantees a favorable bloodline, and seeing an Imperial prince alive and well might settle some. ...Also he isn’t displeasing to look at.”

The king snorted then nodded once before dropping his hands. “Fine. We’re keeping this one. Take him down to the oasis with the others. Strip him, mark him, break him in, take him back to the tent. I’ll be back around after I finish seeing to clean up. ...be nice.”

With that the king straightened up and ambled away, paying no attention to the way his two men hurried to obey his command. Prompto fought, fear of death melting away into fear of something much more immediate, and swore and bit. His father would have said it was shameful behavior, beneath a prince to act anything but noble after being captured, but Prompto didn’t care. Not when he could hear the sounds of other omegas being violated around him, had seen it with his own eyes, not when the king had left no doubt as to what he intended Prompto to be used for.

In the end it didn’t matter. They were bigger, stronger, and seemed not just unaffected but amused by his attempts to get away. They moved him around, got him face first into the sand, one hand pushing on the back of his head and a knee between his shoulder blades, and began to remove his armor piece by piece, using their blades to undo laces, ripping away clasps, and then throwing it all aside like trash. A dagger rasped just along his skin, not breaking the skin but threatening to do so, to cut him first from his robe and then the shirt and breeches underneath until he was completely bare save his breechcloth. Even then he thrashed and tried to crawl away, panic driving him to not just give in.

One of them sighed, annoyed. A hand grabbed him by the ankle and yanked hard enough to flatten him out on the ground and then dragging his legs apart, spreading them open for one of them, Ignis if he was to go by how much space they took up, to kneel between them. He tried to push himself up but a hand on the back of his head shoved him down as other hands grabbed his arms and wrenched them back hard enough to send pain radiating through his shoulders and arms. A beat and them rope was being wrapped around his wrists and pulled tight. He pushed and resisted that too but he was hurting and whatever strength his fear had given him was petering out, leaving bone deep tiredness in its wake. All too soon his arms were bound behind his back and he was being forced up onto his knees by hands on his hips. Sand ground against his face where it was forced down harder, scrapped over his skin roughly.

“Don’t worry little prince.” Gladio said, voice sugary sweet as a big hand cupped Prompto between his legs. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

The hell they didn’t. He could smell it on them, a sharp smokey tang of violence mixing with everything else, almost of strong as the cloying scent of their arousal. He wasn’t sure which worried him more.

His cock was engulfed by the alpha’s hand, sweaty heat sinking in through the thin cloth. He dug his toes into the sand, pushing against the soft earth, as his cock was rubbed and groped. The alpha’s scent, leather, metal, and a touch of something heavily spiced, grew even stronger. It attacked Prompto, wrapped around him and blocked out nearly everything else, left him dizzy and gasping for air around the heavy musk of alpha. His legs jerked and his cock swelled, wholly against his will, was he was fondled and stroked through his underclothes.

Another hand, smaller, stroked up his inner thigh, fingertips featherlight on his skin, on it’s way to pressing against his cunt through his underclothes. The flat of Ignis’ hand curved to fit against him, just missing bumping against Gladio’s hand, and began to grind against him. His fingers pressed right where he was most sensitive, rubbed slow, dragging circles against him. Heat bubbled inside of Prompto, thick and liquid and, as he squirmed and gasped, began to bubble over and spill out. He felt it soaking through the breechcloth and prayed, hopelessly, that the alpha’s wouldn’t notice.

Ignis’ hand moved, dragged down to press against where he was starting to leak. He tried to close his legs but the alpha was still between them, didn’t allow them to close any further than they were. Ignis’ finger pressed hard, dipped into him breechcloth and all; his scent thickened as well, sweat, blood, and something sweet and yeasty (Prompto thought, hazily, of rising bread) mixing with Gladio’s scent. Prompto’s body reacted to it even as he tried to fight it; his mouth started to water, his tongue thickened in his mouth, his skin felt tight and prickled with cold sweat, his gums itched around his omega fangs and muggy heat spread throughout his insides.

“Did you want to go first?” Ignis asked mildly, finger working inside of Prompto, dragging the coarse fabric over his inner walls.

“Hmm. We could go together.” Gladio suggested lightly. “Could even leave his mouth open for His Majesty.”

“Don’t, please.” he gasped out, straining against the rope around his wrists. “Don’t! I don’t- I’ve never- please let me go.”  

“But we made a deal, we can’t just let go what we got for letting Verstael run away.” Gladio clucked his tongue in disapproval. “But don’t worry, we’ll make it good. Noctis told us to be nice.”

Ignis snorted darkly. “Because you listen to His Majesty so well.”

“I do okay.” Gladio said, squeezing Prompto’s cock hard enough to make him gasp. “I’d do better if more of the princesses orders involved cute omegas.”

Ignis’ finger twisted deeper into him, forcing the rough cloth into his sensitive cunt. He thrust his finger back and forth, stopping only for as long as it took to add a second, cramming the cloth in further and making it pull around his cock all the tighter until there was no room for his rapidly filling erection. Ignis’ fingers pistoned in and out of him as Gladio’s rubbed and pulled then pressed against something that made Prompto’s belly twist in humiliating pleasure. More slick spilled from him, soaking more and more of his breechcloth.  Prompto moaned miserably, tears escaping his eyes. Ignis stopped then dragged his fingers out.

“Grab his robe Gladio. He’s going to end up swallowing sand at this rate."

The hand on his cock left with one last teasing grope. There was no relief in it because Ignis’s fingers hooked in the strings of his underclothes and, with clever flicks of his wrist, had them undone. The cloth that had been shoved finger deep inside of him dragged out slowly, sodden with his slick, and the last of his clothing fell away,

“Head up.” Gladio’s voice commanded just as a hand yanked him up by the hair again, just long enough to shove his balled up robe under his head before letting him go again. He pressed his face into the ruined cloth, breathing in the scent of many omegas overlapping from proximity and time spent together, comforting in a way. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, tried to chase the scent of alpha out of his nose and mouth and ignore their voices over him, talking about who would have him first as if he was nothing more than a waterskin or cup to be shared between them.

And maybe that’s all he was, really. A hole for them to fuck, the spoils of a battle won, not a person.

All too soon Ignis was gripping his hips, yanking them higher, and pressing against him. The fabric of his breeches plastered against Prompto’s skin, hot and damp with the day’s sweat, and the heated skin of his cock, rubbed over then pressed against his hole. There was pressure and heat, stretching and then the alpha was inside of him, sliding in with a roll of his hips. Prompto’s fingers curled, nails cutting into the soft flesh of his palm.

It hurt.

Prompto made a noise, low and pained in the back of his throat. It was too much, his nerves and body pulled too tight for the thick cock in him, forcing him open around it, thrusting in and out with shallow thrusts that settled him a little deeper each time. It ached, every thrust feeling like the alpha was carving out a place for his cock, changing Prompto from the inside. He rocked forward everytime their hips collided, felt the impact racing up his spine and twisting low in his gut.

He felt every bit of the alpha, blistering hot and hard as steel, rubbing against his twitching walls. He felt his slick squishing inside, easing the slide of Ignis’ cock into his cunt, smoothing it out. He felt his own cock throbbing between his legs, betraying him. He feels so full, more than he would have thought possible, the weight and pressure strange, different but, as the burn faded away, not as bad or painful as he expected it to be. Ignis fucked into him almost gently, but unfalteringly and without slowing; once he was in to the knot he started pulling out further, pushing back in faster, grinding against him just right to make Prompto’s body light up in pleasure. Ignis’ knot, hot and pulsating, bumped against him, started to press into him then withdrew, time and again.    

“How’s that?” Gladio asked from somewhere near Prompto’s head, close but almost echoing distantly.

“Tight.” Ignis gritted out, fingers spasming around Prompto’s hips. “Good. Might knot him.”

Prompto clenched his eyes tighter, pressed his nails harder against his palm. Gladio huffed and ruffled Prompto’s hair before leaning close to whisper against his ear. “You should be flattered. I can’t remember the last time Ignis popped a knot.”

“Yes, well,” Ignis said, breathy and tetchy all at once. “We aren’t all as easy as you Gladiolus.”

The other alpha just laughed, warm and whiskey smooth, before straightening up. His hand slipped down Prompto’s neck to his back, settling between his shoulder blades. “Close?”

Ignis hummed an affirmative. Neither spoke another word after that, leaving the only sounds Prompto could hear the wet slap of skin against skin and Ignis’ grunts and low growls as he fucked him. A hand, Gladio’s, wrapped around his cock and began to drag up in counterpoint to Ignis’ thrusts, twisting and squeezing. The friction was just on the edge of pain, only the sweat from Gladio’s hand and his own precum, dragged down from the drooling tip of his cock to cut it, but he found himself pushing into the hand when Ignis forced him forward, shuddering and squirming.

Tears ran down his face, bitter and salty, and wet the cloth under his head. The drag of the alpha’s cock in and out of his cunt, somehow brushing against that spot that made him quake, felt too good. He was making sounds, soft keening ones that he couldn’t control, and their scents told him they heard him, wanted him that much more for it. His brain was fogging over, something like drunkenness falling over him. His body was hot, burning up, and his thoughts were melting, dripping right out of his head.

Ignis made a sound, half snarl half shout, and pushed into him again, hard. His knot, more swollen than when they’d began, pushed and pushed against his hole, forced it to stretch painfully and then popped into him. Prompto jerked away instinctively, toes curling and mouth opening in a soundless cry, but that just hurt worse. He clenched around the bulge, tried to force it free but it was growing, filling, grinding against his inner walls.

Prompto felt the tightening inside of him as the alpha’s knot swelled and that full feeling, the pressure, slid from ‘good’ to ‘overwhelming’. It was uncomfortable, too much, too hot, hurt; he was half convinced something was going to tear or that if he moved wrong he’d be torn apart but, instead of going still, he trembled and squirmed.

“Relax.” Ignis said, pulling him back by the hips and he trust forward as much as he could, buried himself to the hilt. Prompto let out a hiccuping moan; lightning danced up his spine and his insides convulsed, squeezed down on the knot. “The first time hurts, it’s normal, but you have to-Ah!”

Prompto’s body tightened again and Ignis cried out; warmth flooded his insides in hard pulses. Ignis held him tight and curled over his body, the leather of his jerkin butter soft and cool against his skin. Air puffed against his neck, a warning that Prompto was too slow to pay heed to because there were teeth in his neck, piercing the skin and clamping down tight. The feeling, pain but not, went straight to his cock and with a confused whimper Prompto was spilling into the hand working his cock.

The world darkened and went silent. It felt like he’d only blinked, one moment melting into the next fluidly, but when he opened his eyes he was on his back with Gladio hovering above him, a smile curving his lips. His arms were still bound, crushed under his weight, and he felt...empty. Achingly empty, and dripping wet inside; he bares down on reflex but there’s nothing there except a strange looseness.

“Awake? I was starting to think Igs broke you. Never seen anyone pass out after being knotted.”

Prompto flushed, embarrassed for reasons he couldn’t put a name to. Gladio winked then, eyes narrowing to golden pinpricks, slide his hands under Prompto’s thighs, curled around them then tugged him closer, until his ass was practically in his lap and his back was bowed. He could feel the alpha’s cock, hard and pressing against his thigh. “My turn now.”

The alpha reached down between them, fisted his cock and angled it to touch Prompto’s loosened entrance. He rolled his hips, fat head of his dick pressing up into his body, and pulled Prompto closer at the same time. He filled him smoothly, slowly, chased away that empty feeling. Prompto twitched, inside and out, lips parting around an involuntary gasp, and his feet scrambled uselessly against the sand. Gladio’s free hand slipped up to fit between his cock and cunt, thumb pressing down on his clit.

It was different, like this, splayed over an alpha’s lap and moved back and forth as he was fucked up into while his clit was played with. He felt his orgasm building slowly in the pit of his stomach and radiating outwards, a gentle easy thing. It wasn’t anything like the swiftly building, overwhelming and sharp peak with the first alpha. Not really ‘better’ but...different, even, from when he touched himself this way.

His clit went hard and hot under Gladio’s slippery touch and his nipples stood up, almost hurting with his tight they’d become. The constant pressure was making his entire body react, muscles and skin pulling taut as pleasure rippled thought him. Gladio’s cock slipped in and out of his cunt, dripping with slick and Ignis’ come, in a languid rhythm. The half-swollen bulb of his knot pressed in too, filled him then dragged out; Prompto’s cunt fluttered and tightened, tried to trap it and clung to the alpha’s knot and cock on the back stroke. His cock was hard again and was dripping precum freely. He couldn’t remember ever recovering so quickly, or being moved to leak so much so easily, before.

Prompto just rode it out. He was too tired to do anything but let it happen, the first knotting having completely wiped him out. And it wasn’t bad, didn’t hurt. He didn’t want to think about whether or not he wanted it to.

His legs were like jelly when he let them fall further apart, trembling of their own accord. The slow pace was maddening in a way; he felt something inside of him unfurling, simmering with each long, unhurried pump of cock into his body. He could feel everything; every vein and dip, every throb, every ridge rubbing against his slick walls. He could even tell that Gladio’s knot was slowly swelling, bigger and harder to drag out of him with each passing moment. Prompto keened softly, head tilting back and legs kicking; the pressure inside of him was coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring. He was drowning in sensation, falling apart, arching and whimpering as his peak came closer.

Another rock of the alpha’s hips and his knot, wider than ever, pressed against his stretched entrance then popped into him with a wet squish. It was slick and wet and Prompto was more aware of it putting pressure into places than he had been with the other alpha. Gladio was flush against him, hips moving in little rocks but not able to move more than that, knot tying them tight. Gladio’s thumb continued to drag in tight circles over his clit and his knot pulsed inside of him; Prompto’s body spasmed, cunt flexing around the knot and thick heat spilled into him. He moaned wetly, eyes rolling back; Gladio swore then bent double over him, hand on his hip shaking and slipping over his skin.

Prompto’s body seemed to know just what to do all on it’s own, flexed around Gladio, heat and pressure building, then relaxed as more tiny spasms ran through him like licks of fire in his gut. Again and again, tightening then releasing, milking the alpha for more of his release. The fluttering convulsions and the rush of  it wasn’t the same as being fucked but it was good, intense in a different way, and somehow pushed him right over the edge into another whimpering orgasm.

And then Gladio bit him, overlapping the stinging ache in his neck he’d very carefully kept himself from thinking about. Prompto’s back arched, heat rippled through him, and he sobbed at the sky as tears pricked his eyes.

He didn’t black out but he died cry silently as they stayed there, on his tattered robe in the sand, waiting for the alpha’s knot to go down. The teeth in his neck withdrew first and a rough tongue lapped at his skin, cleaning away the blood he could feel trickling there. Gladio’s knot followed a minutes later, sliding free with a rush of slick and come. It was disgusting. He felt disgusting, wet and sweaty with dust and sand clinging to his skin, lodged in places sand had no right to be, so worn out he could barely keep his eyes open.

Gladio moved him out of his lap then stood up. Prompto turned his head, realized dimly that Ignis had been there the entire time, watching with hooded eyes. Gladio tucked his cock away and fixed the laces on his breeches while saying something to Ignis; it was too quiet for Prompto to make out anymore more than soft murmurs. Prompto closed his eyes. Too tired to care.

“Listen,” Gladio said from above him some unknown amount of time later, a hand cupping his face. Prompto’s eyes cracked open. “This can be easy, if you let it. We’ll take you down to the oasis, get you cleaned up, fed, let you hang out with the others we’re taking, make sure they aren’t being hurt. Or you can fight us until we get fed up and toss you down there, for the rest of the army to figure who gets to have you.”

His head was forced to turn to look down at what was happening in the valley between dunes, as if there was anyway he could have forgotten. In the time he’d been occupied more of his people, the other omegas, had been carried off to somewhere but the ones who had been grabbed by more impatient Lucians were still there, bent over and spread wide, surrounded by Lucians seemingly waiting their turn.  

Prompto could no longer hear anyone shouting or crying. There was only the crackling of the fire pits and the occasional shout of a warrior as they found another survivor or something worthy of attention.

“You should know there are Galahdians down there and they would be all too happy to get their hands on a Niff Prince.” Ignis added flatly as he appeared just over Gladio’s shoulder. “I doubt they would want to play nice.”

Prompto’s brow furrowed in confusion. He knew about Galahd, of course, but why would any of the survivors be here, fighting with the Lucians? Galadh was, or had been, the country between Lucis and his own, far smaller than the others but known for its fierce navy and army, and the third point of the original treaty. Or, rather, they had been until Lucis had attacked and nearly wiped out the entire tiny country a few years ago in what was now called the Galahd Genocide.

That was what had lead to the war against Lucis, the reason they were marching upon the tiny country to begin with. It didn’t make sense for them to be aligned with the people who’d wiped them out. Something wasn’t-

“Well?” Gladio asked, cutting into his thoughts.  

Prompto blinked back another wave of tears, options turning over in his mind until he settled on the only conclusion that made sense to him. He couldn’t get away and he didn’t want to thrown to figurative wolves but he couldn’t just...roll over and give in either. They wanted him, and weren’t being subtle about it. That had to be worth something, considering they were the king’s right and left hand men if the stories were true, didn’t it?

“Keep your men from hurting mine and I’ll do what you want.”

There was a long moment of silence, the two alphas exchanging unreadable looks before Ignis nodded. Gladio’s grip shifted to his arm to haul him to stand on shaky legs. More wetness dribbled out of his cunt to snake down his inner thighs. He grimaced at the feeling then, hugging himself against the rapidly dropping temperature, watched as Ignis hastily gathering up the armor and clothing they’d taken from him and, with one last look at Gladio, headed down the dune into the valley.

“This way.” Gladio said, shoving him in the opposite direction.

His legs shook and every step felt like it might as well have been a hundred. His limbs felt heavy and the sand was irritating against his bare feet. He slipped more times than he could count, fell to his knees twice, and was trying to force himself up after the second time when Gladio sighed, sounding terribly put upon. He crouched, one arm sweeping under Prompto’s knees and the other curling around his back, and took him off his feet.

Prompto might have dozed off in the alpha’s arm, cradled against his broad chest, because all too soon he was being told to wake up so he could swing up onto one of the bird creatures the Lucians rode. Gladio climbed up behind him and flicked the reins, spurring the bird to start running. Prompto leaned back against the alpha and, once again, slipped off into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry friends, Prompto spends like half of chapter two on Noct's dick, he isn't going to be left out. ;) 
> 
> When will you get chapter 2? Sometimes after the 14th, but it's about 3/4 done, so worry not. This was just...well, hella long as is and I've got 9 more days to go.


	2. Chapter 2

The tent was shockingly nice on the inside, with actual furniture in the form of a low wooden  table, surrounded by cushions, oil lamps hanging from the support posts, and the entire back half taken up by what he assumed was a sleeping area. Furs and skins lined the canvas floor of the tent then lush fabrics and more cushions were piled high, with more furs on top of it all. There were a few chaises, with more blankets and pillows laid on them.

He had, it seemed, walked into a celebration. A barrel of what smelled like mead had been tapped and bottles of wine were being passed around to cups already on the verge of overflowing. Laughter rang in his ears.

There was a carefully dug and lined fire pit towards the center, far away from anything that might catch, with meat roasting on a spit above it. The air was heavy with spice and the savory scent of cooking meat. The table was piled high with bowls full of dried fruits, freshly cooked grains, and nuts he knew must have been taken from the supplies of his army, won with the blood of his people, and yet his stomach growled at the sight. There were other things, stone bowls full of thick and savory smelling stews, bread that was still steaming on the inside, and carved birds surrounded by peeled and sliced eggs. 

He looked up through his lashes at the group assembled before him, including the two men who’d taken and claimed him on the battlefield. Their king was sitting at the head of the table, his sword belt laid out to hold down what looked like a map, out of the heavy leathers, fur, and chainlink Prompto had last seen him in and instead in a light tunic and leather breeches. His generals sat closest to him, one on each side of the table, weapons still sheathed at their sides, also dressed more casually than they had been earlier in the day.

There were other men, five of them, arranged around the table and in similar states but his attention went to the two familiar faces and his heart sank. Loqi, the face he took such pride in bruised under one eye and bottom lip split, wearing nothing but a cloth tunic that was much too large for him, was sitting in the lap of an older man with close cut hair and a severe expression on his face. His hands were bound behind his back in dark rope and a gag fashioned of cloth and a metal rod wrapped in what like leather was between his lips. The tunic was pushed up high on his thighs and, though the man’s man’s attention was on the map in the middle of the table, his hand was between Loqi’s thighs, sliding back and forth in a telltale motion. Loqi was squirming, lashes fluttering and drool dribbling from the corner or his held open mouth. 

The smell of omega slick was heavy in the air and a flush sat high on Loqi’s cheeks. Loqi didn’t look up when Prompto entered and, in fact, seemed to try to turn away and curl in on himself. Prompto only knew Loqi as prideful, self assured to the point of arrogance. Seeing him cower was something Prompto would have never imagined before, never thought possible, and yet-

Across from Loqi, between two men who, if Prompto was to judge by the braids, beads, clasps in their hair, were from Galahd, was his cousin Ravus. Ravus’ robes were gone, of course, and in their place was a high necked form fitting silk gown, stormy gray with pattern of flowering branches and falling feathers printed on it it pale purple. It was long, with twin slits that went up what would have been scandalously far back home. His hair was pulled back and pinned up at the nape of his neck, save a few sections that had been braided and had what looked like beads made of bleached bone placed on them. A fang earring dangled from one ear, still red and raw from being pierced. Prompto could see just a hint of a bite mark under the collar of dress.  

Ravus looked at him, met his gaze and Prompto froze under the weight of shame and resignation in his cousin’s eyes. There was an moment of understanding between them, sadness and rage and the acknowledgement that they were both powerless to help the other, and then the taller man on Ravus right gripped him by the back of the neck and demanded his attention with an amused “Back to the map, your highness. We want to know everything you know about the Tenebrae border forces. A deal is a deal.”

Prompto could feel a shift in the air as everyone noticed him, attention drawn by the Galahdian’s alpha’s scolding of Ravus. There was spike in alpha scent in the air, deep, musky, and thick enough to rival the heavy perfume of omega hanging around them

He swallowed and looked away, stomach rolling.

A hard shove to Prompto’s back sent him stumbling forward. The chains around his ankles tripped him up, lack of range and a too large step to compensate ended up with him careening forward and falling onto his hands and knees. The chains connecting to the cuffs around his wrists and ankles jangled tauntingly as they hit the floor, the gleaming silver and embedded jewels catching the law lamp light, an expensive reminder that he was trapped here, a prize for these Lucian barbarians.

He was even dressed in their colors and clothing now, his sensible tunic and breeches replaced with things he would have never imagined himself in. The top was short sleeved and fitted closely, stopping well above his belly button. The ink black fabric was dotted with silvery glass beads and embroidered around the neck and sleeves. The bottom was one long, gauzy length of fabric, twisted and tucked around his waist then brought up to cross his chest to fall over his shoulder and arm. The fabric was black and sheer, even layered as it was it was completely see through. The tiny breechcloth he’d been allowed, a barely there scrap of fabric that only just contained his cock and fit awkwardly in the crack of his ass, tied with flimsy silk ribbon at his sides, was visible.

A group of servant omegas had done his hair, adding small braids to frame his face and then sliding beads of silver and bleached bone onto them, rubbed creams onto his visible skin that left it shimmering and slick looking, and painted his face, gray blue above his eyes and plum on his lips.

He hadn’t been given anything to cover his feet or keep the chilly air of spring away during the trek across the oasis camp to the tent that housed the Lucian King. It was warmer inside the tent but it was hard to be grateful for it when he was so aware of what must have been coming. None of the servant omegas had been willing to answer his questions as they scrubbed the sweat and dirt of battle and capture from his skin but their soft suggestions that he do as he was told and be sure to ‘please’ the king and his generals, unless he wanted to get into trouble had saison more than enough.

The way they’d said trouble, hushed and trembling with their eyes wide and hands curled into fists, told him he didn’t want to be in it. But he also didn’t want what he knew was coming. What had played out when they’d plucked him from the battlefield and held him down as they worked together to cut the clothes from his body then used him for their own pleasure like they were entitled to him told him all he needed to know.

Men like this, alpha warriors, a king and his generals, didn’t take an enemy omega back to their camp just for fun. Or, rather, Fun was the exact reasons. He’d heard stories of how the bloodthirsty barbarians of the north would raid villages, slaughtering and then defiling and abusing whoever they could get their hands on before slitting more throats and moving on.

The effort they’d gone through to make him presentable, having servants tend him, scrubbing him raw with hot water, and dressing him like this was…jarring. Gladio had said, when they’d arrived at the camp and had dumped Prompto off, that he’d he’d be cleaned and dressed to fit his new station but he hadn’t expected anything this elaborate to be what the alpha meant.

Or maybe he’d hoped for something basic because the only reason they would want to keep him like this was if they meant to show him off and he knew nothing good could come of that.

“That’s enough Talcott.” The king said, eyes raking over Prompto’s body. “You, come. Sit.” Prompto grit his teeth together, forcing the bite of anger to stay behind them, and started to push himself up. “No. Crawl.”

Gladio smirked and Ignis snorted into his mug before speaking, tone lightly scolding. “Honestly Noctis.”

 “You had your fun Iggy, don’t ruin mine.” The king smiled, warm and somehow charming. “Crawl, Prince Prompto.”

Prompto inhaled sharply, heart thudding harder in his chest, then bit down on his lower lip as hard as he could. He was a prince, a warrior, had earned respect among his people and now he was being commanded to crawl like a beast. It was degrading, beneath him, and yet…his options were limited. He’d already accepted, mentally, what was going to happen to him and he wasn’t going to let this derail things. If he played along the other omegas stayed safe, as safe as any of them could be now, and that mattered more than his pride, didn’t it? He had to protect everyone he could, no matter what. It was his duty.

He sucked in a steadying breath then began to move on his hands and knees, chains jangling a musical beat. He didn’t dare look up from the ground. He wasn’t sure he could take the looks the alphas must have been watching him with or, worse, how Loqi and Ravus might look at him.

Would they hate him, for being degraded like this? Hate him because it was his father who had sold them out? Pity him, even with the situations they were in? Be disgusted by him? No, there was no way he could see that and keep going. It would undo him, undo everything he was trying to do.

“This is the prince you found out there?” Someone asked. “He’s cute but the boys aren’t going to like you taking a Niff to bed." 

The king’s laughter was bright and almost friendly, somehow. But the hand he reached out with the grasp Prompto’s chin with when he was close enough was rough and his grip like iron. Prompto’s head was guided up so he was looking into the king’s eyes, sharp and hard. 

"The soldiers will accept it.” He pressed a thumb to Prompto’s bottom lip. “Once we breed him up." 

Prompto tried to jerk away, horror and revulsion rising up his throat, but the king held fast. Breed him? Is that...that couldn’t-! And yet, it did seem like the king wanted to do more than fuck him and kill him, why else go through the effort to see him cleaned up and presented in the Lucian style? And after what had happened out in the desert, the way they’d used him and knotted him, filled him with their seed, it would be surprising if he didn’t end up carrying, wouldn’t it? 

He was an omega, fertile by his very nature, even outside of his season, and they were alphas. Coming together, breeding, was what they were meant to dontogether but...but why, why him? Why would they want him to carry for them, to blend their bloodlines with his? Was it just more torture, another way to degrade him by forcing their pups on him or- 

“Up here, Prince Prompto.” The king said, blue eyes bright with lust. “I have a seat waiting for you.”

Prompto’s face burned and his vision blurred and fogged with tears (all of this was so disgusting and brazen, and the innuendo was just too much in top of everything else. He turned away, once again trying to draw back. 

“Please. Don’t.” He whispered out, choking on a lump forming in his throat. 

“Don’t make me force you. No prince should cry and beg at the feet of his enemy.” The king scolded, tugging him up until they were looking in each other’s eyes. “You can do this, or we’ll look among the ones we captured and take someone in your place.” 

Prompto inhaled, shakey and wet, then pushed himself up. Hands slipped down his body, curled around his hips to drag him forward and into the king’s lap. The first kiss was light, careful and searching as chapped lips slid over his own, broke away, and then returned with more fervor. The king licked into his mouth, attached with tongue and teeth, mixed their spit and left the taste of rich meat and fruit behind. He sucked and nipped, ran a hand over Prompto’s ass while the other slipped up under his skirt to paw at bare skin. 

Prompto shut his eyes tightly but couldn’t stop tears from slipping free. 

When they broke apart again it was with a wet smacking sound. Spit wet his lips and every breath he drew was heavy, hard to suck down. His skin felt too tight, insides burning. 

“Turn around, yes like that. Hold there.” Prompto looked out over those assembled group, watching with varying degrees of humor and hunger. He felt the king shifting behind him and hands moving as belts clinked and fabric rustled and then heat, radiating from uncovered skin. “Sit back.” 

It was only through of someone else in his place, one of his soldiers drug in to be raped and humiliated because he couldn’t bare it, that kept him from being sick. He settled down, breath catching when the blunt head of the king’s erection pressed against him. He swallowed hard, eyes darting down to look at the hand resting on his stomach then back up to flick to Ravus, now bent over with his head in the lap of the man who’d commanded him earlier, to Loqi thrashing and whimpering behind his gag, and moved down to take the king into his body. 

 


End file.
